Prologue: Of Broom Closets and Name Tags.
When the words first appeared on her arm she had ran up to her mother and shoved the limb in her face. It was a long sentence, inked beautifully across the pale skin of her forearm. She had tried desperately to read it herself but at the young age of five she had struggled, only being able to read a few of the words.
Michelle remembered her mother's face scrunch up, first in confusion and then alarm before quickly reassuring her that she didn't have to stay with her soulmate like she did with her father. That not all soulmates stay together in the end and that it was okay.
She remembered her mother rushing towards her father's study, tugging her hand gently as she followed. Melissa knelt beside her, "Honey, show your dad your mark."
When she did as told and held out her left arm, her father was by her side, scanning the words permanently sketched into her arm. His expression shifted into one of disbelief, re-reading the sentence again and again as if he had not read it right. He turned to Melissa who had looked as if she were on the brink of tears.
Michelle remembered looking back and forth from her mother to her father, snatching her arm away from her father's grasp and hugging it close to her chest. "Why are you sad? Is there something wrong with my mark?"
"No, honey, there's nothing wrong with your mark." Her mother said.
"Michelle, I want you to listen to me, alright? I want you to promise me something." Her father reached for her hands, embracing them with his own tightly. "Promise me that you'll stay safe no matter what, okay?"
She remembered being confused, wanting to question her father but timidly agreed, linking her pinky with her father's in pledge. "I promise."
Too bad it only lasted for seventeen years.
She was only sixteen years old when she woke up with her mark ruined, an ugly scratch right through the words across her arm. Michelle had lost her breath, slowly moving her shaking hand to touch her skin— to feel the black ink which reminded her too much like the flat lines in heart monitors. She felt herself struggling to breath and she brought her arm to her chest, letting the fresh tears fall onto her bedsheets.
Michelle cried the day her soulmate died. It was funny looking back at it; why did she cry for someone she had never even met before?
Her mother had quickly ran into her room that morning and once she laid eyes on her arm, she brought her into an embrace, holding her as if she were a child and whispering reassurances that "everything will be okay". That day Michelle knew her mother had cried too. She remembered walking through the house, eyes dry with no more tears left to shed, only to stop when she heard quiet sobbing in her father's study.
Michelle got into the habit of wearing long sleeves after that day. Even if it made her sweat from the heat of some days, she knew it was better to hide the ugly mark from everyone, especially from herself.
She went to college, graduated and got a job at a museum as a guide. Despite what everyone told her she lived a normal and satisfying life even without her soulmate.
Everything was fine.
At some point she had dated a few guys, none of them lasting too long and some barely making it past the third date. She attended some weddings, baby showers, graduations and even funerals in the five years since her soulmate's death.
In a way she liked to think she was living for their sake too, whoever they were. When she reached adulthood, she began to really see how much there was to life besides having a soulmate. Growing up everyone told her that nothing would bring her as much happiness than a soulmate would. (When she remembers their faces when she showed them her soul mark she still grins about it).
She was content with how her life was going.
When one day she looked at her soul mark and found the flat line gone and her mark back to how it originally was all she did was narrow her eyes at her arm distastefully.
Either she was going crazy or did her soulmate just fucking resurrect to piss her off?
Selfishly, she decided it was the second one.
She also decided she was probably going to punch them in the neck at least once when they finally met.
"Sweetheart, you're gonna have to tell me where the most valuable thing is in this place."
After her soulmate decided to fucking resurrect from the dead, Michelle decided she was going to punch whoever they were in the neck. Her parents thought she was going to get robbed or threatened the moment they had read her soul mark and had advised her to invest in a security system for her apartment. Personally, she thought she was going to become a poor victim in a bank robbery only to realise her soulmate was the asshole holding her at gunpoint.
But, no. Michelle actually ended up hiding in a broom closet inside Gotham Museum during a heist. Her soulmate? A buff-looking guy wearing a red mask and a leather jacket who had hid inside the same broom closet, waiting apparently for the best time to strike. "Believe it or not, I'm actually the good guy here so if you tell me where the most valuable thing is in this joint then I can probably get this shit done faster than expected." He reassured her.
She could only stare at his mask, then the guns he was holding (away from her) and then back at the mask. Under that mask was her soulmate and he was doing a terrible job at trying to convince her he wasn't a thief. Michelle continued to stare, narrowing her eyes at the masked man, itching to double-check if he really was her soul mate.
"Listen—"
"…Aren't you supposed to be dead?" She asked slowly. The man froze at her words and now it was either he was her soulmate or he also died and resurrected (which she was sure didn't happen regularly). The moment he said those words to her, she sealed her mouth shut and thought of something to say that wasn't 'hi' or 'hey'. She still felt pity for her classmate who had a permanent 'hey' etched into her arm and went her day questioning almost every new person she met if they were her soulmate.
Michelle grabbed the sleeve of her blouse, rolling it up and presenting her soul mark to the masked weirdo. "Here. If you want proof."
A gloved hand actually shot out and grasped her wrist, pulling her slightly closer to examine the words decorating her skin. He looked back at her and let go of her wrist, "'kay, wasn't expecting this but we can make this work."
"How exactly?"
"I stop these assholes from taking whatever this place deems as valuable and all's well. Wouldn't be good to get my soulmate killed by some weaklings." He explained, twirling the gun between his fingers. She watched the action with wariness, "How do I know you're not one of them?"
"Haven't you heard of the Red Hood?"
"No. Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"Wow, to think my own soulmate hasn't heard of me." He sighs, "Alright, how about this. If I was with them why am I here talking to you in a broom closet?"
Her eye twitched. "If you break any of the stuff we have in the exhibition I get to punch you in the nose."
"Deal."
Michelle gave him a run-down of the museum, informing him about the vaults in the director's office and in her own office. "A new artefact came in a few days ago but I was still working on it so it was in my office. If I lose it I get to punch you in the neck."
"Sure, just stay here…" He regarded her for a second, "Michelle."
He then snuck out of the closet, leaving her alone in the darkness next to a smelly broom and the irritating thought that he now had her name and she didn't have his. It was only moments later she heard gunshots, screaming, crashing and police sirens all at once. She clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent her own cries of fear from leaving the room.
Michelle didn't know how long she was in that broom closet for until it was opened and instead of a red mask she found a man looking at her, black mask wearing a skintight blue-black outfit. "Hey, are you alright?" It was obvious the guy wasn't one of the thieves. He quickly rushed to her side, "Do you have any injuries?"
She shook her and tried to stand up, her legs wobbling as the man held her shoulders to support her. He walked her out of the closet and when she looked at her surroundings she found the windows of the museum shattered and precious statues broken into pieces. Michelle's eye twitched.
"Hey, Nightwing, she good?" Red Hood made his way to them. The guy beside her— Nightwing— titled his head slightly, "You're still here?"
"Didn't I say I'd punch you in the nose if stuff broke?" Michelle interrupted, Nightwing beside her shooting her a look of disbelief. Red Hood shrugged, "Hey, I tried but I can't perform miracles. I saved the thingy in your office though."
"Miracles? Didn't you come back from the dead?"
"Alright, I should've saw that one coming." Red Hood approached her and patted her right shoulder, "Anyway, I'm gonna get going before I get arrested too."
Her eyes widened, "Did you just say—"
"Laters." He ran off before she could even finish her sentence and she was left standing there again but this time next to some stranger in spandex who called himself Nightwing. Michelle personally thought Nightwing looked somewhat amused by the exchange and was about to ask about it before she glanced down and noticed something was missing.
"What's wrong?" Nightwing asked, noticing the frown on her face.
Michelle looked down at her blue blouse. "That asshole stole my name tag."
Author's Note:
I'm under a great deal of stress due to university. Writing and starting fics is my coping mechanism. This idea has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally got the prologue done. The new chapters after this one will be longer.
Important note: This doesn't really follow any particular story line in the actual Batman comics. To be honest, you don't need extensive knowledge about the comics besides knowing that Jason Todd died and came back to life as well as the other robins. This fic won't be too angsty or emo just because Jason's in it. Jason needs fluff.
Furthermore, notes about this AU. At the age of 5, soul marks in the form of the first thing ever said by your soulmate appears on a part of your body. When your soulmate dies the words are crossed out. Not everyone has a soulmate.